Kozuki Oden's eyes burned crimson, his face drawn into a demon's snarl.
With a roar that shook the hall, he let fly a cut poured from will and conviction. The blade led, the man followed—like a meteor tearing the night—Bushido burning white-hot.
Black-red lightning crawled along the edge of his meito, a stubborn charge that made gods and devils alike recoil.
A chill he'd not felt in years slid down Darren's spine. His eyelid twitched; a curse nearly slipped free.
Conqueror's Haki infusion.
Flat on his back, Oden had grasped it—however roughly—at the brink.
Am I really walking Kaido's road?
There was no time to think.
The meteor hit.
Shing!
Lightning-wreathed steel fell with ruinous weight. A crimson geyser burst across Darren's chest; the blow hurled him hundreds of meters, through coral towers that shattered like glass.
Rumble…
Stone shook. Coral collapsed in thunder, a plume of smoke boiling up to dim the sea-light.
Oden had wrenched himself free of the beating at last. He was a mess of cuts and blood, barely upright before he sagged to one knee, Ame no Habakiri propping him as he drank for air.
He forced swollen lids to part and fixed on the distant ruins.
"What…?"
The Roger Pirates stared, stunned. Then a fierce light kindled.
"Could it be?!" Gaban shot at Rayleigh, face bright.
Rayleigh nodded, a rueful smile lifting his mouth. "He's reached it."
Faces turned at once to their captain.
"Hahaha! Oden—I knew you could!" Roger roared, hands on hips, pride ringing in his voice.
Conqueror's Haki infusion—the summit of that will.
Hearing him laugh, Oden turned and grinned through the pain. "All thanks to your guidance, Captain…" he rasped. "That's our bond."
Laughter flashed in his mind—Whitebeard, Marco, Vista—Roger, Rayleigh, Gaban, Buggy, Shanks…
His grip cinched on the blade. Strength he'd never felt flowed in.
I'm not the naive samurai who first set sail. I am Kozuki Oden—the pirate. I have the best crew in the world.
"Enough," a dry voice cut across the distance. "Charging in yelling about 'friendship,' 'bonds,' and 'the future'—it's nauseating. I stand for Marine 'Justice,' not villainy."
The rasp of it tightened every back. Oden and the crew turned to the rising smoke.
Thud…
Thud…
Thud…
Measured, heavy steps. A polished black boot tore the smoke, then a long, muscled leg, a crisp black uniform, a white cape snapping in the current.
The Vice Admiral stepped out—handsome, arrogant, defiant. He squinted under the haze, a half-smoked cigar clenched at his teeth, blood pumping from a deep, bone-bared cut across his chest.
That body… Indestructible, Rayleigh thought, heartbeat spiking.
Oden's stroke would fell a dragon in the sky, let alone a man. Yet this brat had eaten it head-on, survived on the raw fact of his flesh.
The wound was savage—not mortal.
Worse, he moved as if untouched. His pressure hadn't dimmed at all.
Such inhuman resilience—Rayleigh had seen it once, in the Beast who ruled land, sea, and air: Kaido.
Darren cracked his neck. A savage red light gathered behind his eyes.
His body now stood level with Kaido's—at least.
In the tales to come, Oden would wound Kaido with one blow—but not kill him.
And Oden wasn't there yet.
Only a fatal wound…
Darren drew smoke, a cruel smile bending his mouth. "Well then…"
Oden froze.
The Vice Admiral vanished.
"Warm-up's over," a cold voice laughed from above.
Burst—Soru. Divine speed.
Oden's face blanched. He looked up on instinct.
So fast…?
The thought flared, unbelieving—and died. He tried to loose his will in answer and found only emptiness. His Haki was spent.
Stunned, he saw a snow-white cape fill his vision, "Justice" scrawled in ink like flying dragons.
A hand, too fast to see, clamped his skull and erased his face from the world.
The speed. The weight. It beggared thought.
Then—
He went down like a nail struck by a god.
BOOM!!!
Hundreds of meters of stone gave way at once. The world bucked; smoke and shockwaves rolled out like a tide.
Oden's pupils spread wide. The cost of injury and spent spirit hit at once; his life-force ran like sand from a glass.
Brute strength—that was the shape of it.
For a monster like Darren—a human tank with a body like this—one mortal stroke would never be enough. With raw resilience and a bottomless engine, he'd grind even peers into dust.
"It's over," Darren said. He hauled Oden high by the head, the samurai limp as a rag.
Blood dripped in a steady patter. Ame no Habakiri slipped from his fingers and rang once on stone before falling quiet.
"Dragon Claw Fist…"
His eyes flashed. The pitch-black Three-Fingered Claw began to close.
"Dragon's Breath."
And then—
The world stopped.
As if time itself held its breath, a sky of roaring black-crimson lightning unfurled at once.
To be continued...